


Him & I

by My_Evak_Heart



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:09:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13844979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Evak_Heart/pseuds/My_Evak_Heart
Summary: Musical prodigy Elio Perlman returns home after studying abroad all year in Scotland. Only, when he opens the door to his bedroom, someone else is sleeping in his bed.* Set in modern universe (2018)





	1. PROLOGUE

__

  Their story started very weirdly. Their meeting reminded Elio of a scene from that creepy movie of his childhood but, in Elio's case, the stranger didn't have knives and scissors for hands nor water bed to pierce. 

It was almost two o'clock in the morning when Elio arrived to his family's summer house in northern Italy. The teenager was barely standing on his two feet, jet lagged and exhausted from the long flight. As he pulled his suitcase inside the villa and up the stairs, all Elio could think about was the soft bed awaiting in his bedroom - a lot more comfortable that these cramped airplane seats with little kids kicking you in the back.

Unlike most teenagers, Elio was excited to see his parents. He hasn't seen them since Christmas break and he missed them so much during his stay in Scotland. They shared e-mails every other days, Elio updating them on his life and academics, sharing his later reads with his mother and cultural discoveries with his father - Scotland is  _so_  beautiful. A part of him was hoping they'd still be up, waiting for him, when he'd get home but, given how late it was, he couldn't blame them. 

When he opened the bedroom door, he noticed the window was open, the curtains dancing as the warm wing blew on them. His mother or Mafalda must've opened them to ventilate the room. Elio dropped his suitcase and backpack at the foot of his bed, leaving them there to unpack tomorrow. Yawning and rubbing his tired eyes, Elio unbuttoned his jeans and let them fall to his ankles before stepping out of them and pulling off his tee shirt, leaving the items carelessly on the floor. He sat on the side of the bed, about to lay down but eyes widening when he felt a hairy leg under his fingertips as he reached for the thin blanket. 

'' _Maman_!''


	2. ONE | Oliver

****

** Wednesday, June 27th 2018 **

**14:21**

Oliver.

That was the man's name. He was his father's student for the summer. Elio should've known someone was occupying his bed when he came home but, according to his father's recent e-mails, the student he had selected for this summer had a last minute impediment and couldn't make it to Italy. Only, his father forgot to mention that the student had reached out to him two weeks ago, returning on his words.

Elio met Oliver properly over breakfast. It was brief but long enough for Elio to make an opinion of the man. 

Everyone at the villa was enamored with Oliver. If he didn't know how solid his parent's wedding was, Elio would've thought his mother had an eye on the american student. ''Oliver is so charming and handsome, isn't he?'' she said to him as he helped her with the fruit garden.

The adolescent had remained silent, not diving into a risky territory. Agreeing to his mother's statement could open many doors Elio wasn't ready to open.

''I'm going to the river tonight,'' Elio informed his mother as he plucked cherries from the cherry tree. ''It's Marzia's birthday.''

Marzia was one of Elio's many friends here in Crema. Just like Elio, she was only here for the summer. Her parents owns a house a few kilometers down from the Perlman's. Elio's known her since he was ten and they have been best friends ever since.

''Why don't you take Oliver with you?''

''It's Marzia's birthday, maman. I can't show up with a stranger at a birthday party.''

''Why not? I'm sure he'd get along with your friends.''

Elio huffed, shaking his head. ''I don't think Oliver wants to party with adolescents.''

Oliver, Oliver,  _Oliver_. It rolled on the tip of Elio's tongue perfectly.

''Have you asked him?'' Annella continued, moving to the next tree.

That's when Oliver chose to arrive in the garden, backpack slung over his shoulder, the first three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.

''Oliver!'' Annella called, waving him over.

Oliver smiled at her and walked in their direction, asking if they needed help with the fruits. With his height, Oliver was able to reach the higher branches of the trees where the fruits usually stays there and burn under the Italian sun. For a minute, Elio thought his mother had forgot about the party by the river but, unfortunately, she didn't.

''I'd love to,'' Oliver replied, flashing a smile at Elio.

.

**19:37**

After dinner, the two got ready and left for the river.

Oliver had changed into a blue shirt - again, unbuttoned at the top - and beige shorts while Elio went for a bolder look, aka denim shorts and a tee shirt. He used to be a fashion icon before he left for Scotland but, the gloomy weather turned him into a basic and plain Tumblr boy. 

They walked along the desert road, the sun starting to set in front of them. 

Making new friends is usually easy for Elio. With all the different schools he went to, he had master the art of making friends or else he would've been very lonely while abroad. People are drawn to Elio. Girls says he's cute and boys...he's not that great with boys. Maybe this is why this silence between him and Oliver is so uncomfortable? 

Like his mother suggested, Elio tried to be nice to Oliver - he even brought him to his friend's birthday party - but, he still felt like Oliver was indifferent toward him. But, why? Was it because he found him childish? Or ugly? Maybe he didn't want to share a room with an adolescent? 

They were almost at the river when Elio broke the silence. ''Just letting you know, this isn't anything fancy. Don't get you hopes up.''

Oliver chuckled. ''I figured.'' 

 _My Sweet Sixteenth_  might be a popular show on MTV but, Oliver wasn't ignorant. He knew most adolescents' birthdays didn't look like that. 

''We go to the river every year to celebrate Marzia's birthday. We drink cheap beer and dance all night...or until we pass out on the grass. Chiara's cake is half-cooked and the icing taste like straight up sugar - she's not a good cook - and she might force you to wear one of those stupid birthday hat,'' the brunette explained, vague memories of previous years rolling in his head. 

Last year, he and Marzia stole a bottle of vodka from the liquor store and drank it behind the patch of trees by the river. Elio was on watch duty and Marzia put the bottle inside her shorts and covered it with her hoodie. They ended up sleeping on the grass with bugs crawling on their legs and woke up with a killer hungover. Needless to say, it wasn't their brightest idea.

''Do you speak french?''

''Erm, not really,'' Oliver replied, scratching the back of his neck. 

Elio bit his lip, realizing there was a problem: Marzia only speaks french. Chiara, Margot and Charles's english is decent and Matteo is fluent. 

Sensing there was a problem, Oliver spoke up. ''Is it okay that I came here? I don't want to intrude or anything.'' 

 _Good job, Elio!_   _Now Oliver thinks he is not welcomed and unwanted._

Before Elio could reply anything, a feminine voice with a french accent called his name. ''Elio!'' Marzia exclaimed as soon as she spotted him, running in his direction to pull him in a hug. 

Elio smiled, hugging her back. 

''Marzia, c'est Oliver, l'élève de mon père. Il est Américain.'' Elio turned to Oliver. ''Oliver, this is Marzia, the birthday girl.'' 

Oliver smiled politely and extended his hand.

''Hi,'' Marzia said, a light blush creeping on her cheeks as she shook Oliver's hand. 

.

**23:01**

Although he was the only adult, Oliver made one with the a group of adolescents. He down cheap beers as they sang 'Joyeux Anniversaire' to Marzia, complimented Chiara on her awful cake and danced his ass off to french songs he couldn't understand the lyrics. 

After his third beer, Elio sat with Marzia on the grass, watching their friends dance. 

''He's better than the guy who came last year.'' 

Oskar was from Germany. He had a dark hair, a great jawline and a crooked nose. Unlike Oliver, Oskar never hung out with Elio and his friends. All Oskar thought about was work. Work, work,  _work_. He'd stay at the villa and follow Mr. Perlman everywhere. 

Elio shrugged, starting his fourth beer. ''He's a genre.''

''He dances well too. Look at him.'' Marzia nodded in direction of the American who was moving hips with their friend Chiara. Their bodies were very close, Chiara's arms snaked around Oliver's neck, pulling him closer to her. 

For a man, Oliver was a great dancer. Most boys just grinds on you and thinks you like it but, in all honesty, girls hates it. 

Elio leaned forward and pulled his eyebrows, watching Chiara and Oliver kiss. Chiara is fast in business. She met Oliver three hours ago and she's already got her tongue in his mouth. 

Pulling her friend out of his bubble, Marzia grabbed Elio's hand as Selena Gomez's  _Wolves_  came on, standing up. ''Come dance with me, I  _love_  this song.'' 

.

**23:19**

Elio liked to think he was a great dancer. When he was a kid, he used to watch his parents tango on Sunday evenings. His mother would be reading in a corner in the library and his father would go and put an old vinyl in the record player. She'd smile and set her book down to dance with him as a young Elio watched from the vintage, velvet reading chair. Some times, he'd get up and join them, stepping on his father's feet or stealing his mother's hand. 

His parents ended up signing him to to dancing class and he loved it. He loved it until he brushed his fingertips against the key of a piano. 

On the makeshift dance-floor, Elio was trying to impress Marzia with his dancing skills, doing the wave with his arms and other silly moves but, the girl only laughed. Then, Elio remembered her comment about Oliver's dancing skills and tried to replicate his moves. He wasn't as good as Oliver but, this time, Marzia stepped closer, moving her body against his. 

.

**Thursday, June 28th 2018**

**08:32**

''I almost had sex with Marzia last night.'' 

A smirk on his lips, Elio grabbed a piece of toast, sliding it into his mouth, waiting for someone to react. He didn't mean to brag or be cocky about it.  He just wanted to show Oliver that he wasn't the only one who didn't end the night alone last night. 

So, maybe he  _was_  bragging.

'' _Oh_.'' Mr. Perlman raised an eyebrow, looking up in his son's direction. ''And, why didn't you?'' 

Elio shrugged, feeling Oliver's gaze on him. ''I don't know.''

''I didn't know something was going on between you and Marzia.''  

Truth to be said, Elio's attraction to Marzia was fairly new. Before last night, he had never thought of the brunette french girl this way. He never saw her as a possible frequentation, less a love interest. Adults would say it's the hormones and puberty but Marzia looked the same as last summer - except her hair who were longer. 

''Nothing's going on, dad.'' 

''But, you said-''

Elio looked up from his plate. ''I'm saying, if I had reached, it would've happened.'' 

''But it didn't,'' reminded Oliver, finishing his eggs. 

Right then, Annella stepped out of the villa, looking beautiful and well rested as always. She kissed her son's cheek as she passed behind his chair, taking the seat next to him. ''What were you talking about?'' 

''University,'' Mr. Perlman replied, covering for his son, knowing his wife wouldn't allow such conversation over a meal. ''I got an e-mail this morning from a colleague. He said he made a discovery on the site in Egypt.''

The adolescent shared a look with his father, silently thanking him. 

''My computer broke this morning when I tried to open it. Is there somewhere I can get it checked?'' Oliver asked, downing the last of his coffee. 

Crema is a petite community, there aren't a lot of places to get your electronics repaired. And, most stores close during summer to spend time with their family. 

 ''You could go to Romano?'' Mr. Perlman suggested. 

''They're closed for the summer,'' Elio informed.

Oliver looked at the professor in mild panic. Without his laptop, he can't work on his manuscript and, no manuscript means no graduation next year. 

''What about Moretti? Elio could take you.''

''I'll get my laptop and we'll get going.'' 

Oliver left the table and Elio glared at his mother. ''What is it?'' Annella asked.

''Why do I have to accompany Oliver in town?''

''Because he could use a guide...and a friend.'' 

Elio scoffed. ''Oliver doesn't want me as a friend. He barely speaks to me.'' 

''Don't be like that, Elio. He's just shy. You'll grow to like him,'' his father said.

''Yeah, but what if I grow to hate him?''

''Then you'll just have to put up with him for five weeks,'' his mother replied, amused. 

The summer guest's stay is of six weeks but, since Elio arrived at the end of June, there's just five weeks left.  _Five_  weeks to endure Oliver. 

Mr. Perlman joined his wife in her amusement, sending a complice smile her way. Elio, sitting between them, didn't share the amusement. 

.

**9:50**

Bikes on, Elio lead the way to the village, pedaling along the main road towards the town of Crema. Oliver was following closely behind, laptop secured in his backpack. He hadn't spoken a word to Elio since they left the villa and Elio had a feeling it would stay like this. Will he  _ever_  talk to him? They shared a bedroom- no, Oliver was occupying Elio's bedroom, the least could do is to not ignore him completely. Elio isn't going anywhere and neither is he. The summer is going to be long if he keeps ignoring him. 

It was almost ten o'clock and the day was already hot. Sweat was beading on the two boy's forehead and Elio wiped it, hating the feeling of sweat on his body. 

Before going to Moretti's shop, Elio made a short stop to get refreshments. It was a small, very home-y place and the middle aged woman behind the counter smiled warmly when she saw Elio walking in. ''Elio! It's so nice to see you. How are your parents?''

''Holla, Mircella. They're good. They're good,'' Elio repeated. 

The woman looked behind the adolescent and raised an eyebrow. ''And who is this handsome gentleman behind you?'' 

Too bad for Oliver, the woman was Italian and he couldn't understand what they were saying. 

''Oliver. He's our summer guest. We'll take two lemonades, please.'' 

Mircella gave them the lemonades and Elio paid and thanked her before they returned outside to find a place to sit. 

''Do you know everyone in this town by their names?'' Oliver asked after they found a set ironchairs and tables to sit at. 

Elio took a long sip of his lemonade, sighing as the cold liquid passed down his throat, feeling refreshed. ''Crema is a very small community. Everyone knows everyone,'' he explained. 

''What does one do around here? It must get boring at times.'' 

''I read, swim in our pool, write music, go out at night... That kind of stuff.''

''And in the winter?''

''We only come here during summer. And Christmas.''

Oliver nodded.''Your father said you were studying abroad. Scotland, was it?''The brunette nodded. ''I heard it's beautiful there. The Highlands, the Isle of Skye, the old castles. I'd like to travel there some day.''

''It's really beautiful. The highlands are breathtaking. I stayed there with a couple friends during spring break. I had to take photos to satisfy my father's historic fascination like the site where the Battle of Glen Shiel happened in 1719, the second major battle site of Scotland where the Jacobites joined forces with the Spanish in an attempt to oust King George I from the throne. The Glenfinnan Monument which is a tribute to the history of the Jacobite uprisings. The Calanish stones on Isle of Lewis.''

Elio continued about his stay in Scotland, expanding to Iverness and Edinburgh. It's spectacular to see those old castles who are still holding up after all those centuries. They are all so beautiful but also very imposing.  St. Margaret's Chapel (Edinburgh) who was built in 1130, making it the oldest building in Edinburgh.

''You know a lot of things for your age.'' Oliver was impressed by how much Elio knew for his age. When he was seventeen, Oliver didn't know a tenth of what Elio knows. 

Elio looked down, a light blush on his cheeks. Luckily, it wasn't too noticeable with the heath - his face was already red. ''My father is an historian and history professor.'' 

That was the longest conversation Elio had with Oliver. Just when Elio thought there was progress, Oliver proved him wrong.

''It's here.'' Elio pointed to an old brick building: Moretti's shop. 

Oliver nodded and stood, throwing his empty cup in the trash. ''Later,'' he said to Elio, grabbing his backpack from the ground and pushing his bike to the electronic store, leaving Elio to himself. 


	3. TWO | Him. Always him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long wait I know...I'm so sorry. I was struggling with a scene but managed to get trough although I'm still not 100% happy with it. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

** Friday, June 29th 2018 **

**6:37**

The bright sun coming from Elio's bedroom window woke the adolescent a few hours earlier than he had intended to. Elio groaned and hid his face in his pillow. He rolled on his back, rubbing his still tired eyes, shielding them from the sunlight for a few seconds. He'll have to ask Mafalda to hang curtains or something because he won't wake up at six o'clock all summer. 

In his old bedroom, he had curtains but, Oliver is occupying it. 

The villa seemed quiet. He must be the only one awake. 

Not feeling like getting up yet, he put his headphones on and decided to work on his music. Although there is a tons of music sheets on the internet, Elio preferred to transcribe the music himself - and, sometimes, add his own twist. Most pieces Elio listen to are made for the  _piano_ , not the guitar. By transcribing the music, he can adapt it for the instrument of his choice.

Right now, Elio is working on a piece from Johann Sebastian Bach. He started this transcription mid flight to Italy but, he was so tired that he ended up falling asleep. The piano chords echoed in Elio's ears as the ray of the sun hit the adolescent's pale skin, warming it up between two yawns.

.

**15:21**

On rare times, Elio went and proposed his help to Mafalda in the kitchen. And by help, he meant  _tasting help_. Although he doesn't share this opinion, Elio wasn't the greatest in the cooking department. He misread the recipes and mix ingredients names constantly. This is why being the taster was perfect for Elio's competences. 

''What's on the menu today?'' Elio asked, entering the kitchen, seeing Mafalda hands deep into some dough. ''Will you grace us with one of your divine recipe tonight?''

Mafalda chuckled, her eyes never quitting her dough. ''Charming me to get an early bite of dessert won't work today, Elio.'' 

Out of all the good food Mafalda prepared, the desserts were Elio's favorites. Her raspberry gelato with scraped dark chocolate on top, the panna cottas...and don't get him started on the chocolate truffle tart. 

With Mafalda, his sweet tooth was always satisfied.

''Dammit.'' Elio paused, curious about what was on tonight's menu. ''What are you cooking?''

''A white peach tart,'' the woman replied. 

''Sounds delicious. Need a second hand?'' 

Most of the time, Mafalda would send him away and say he is disturbing her cooking but, for today, another set of hands wouldn't be refused. ''You can cut the peaches.'' She pointed to the peaches on the kitchen island. ''Use that knife over there. Careful, I wouldn't want you bleeding all over my peaches.''

The adolescent chuckled, grabbing the said knife and started cutting the peaches in moon shaped slices, following Mafalda's instructions. It wasn't too hard of a task. Every few seconds, Mafalda would check the boy over her shoulder, making sure he was doing the right thing. She wasn't doubting his abilities, she knew he could cut the peaches but, as an almost second mother to Elio, it was a reflex to check on him. 

Mafalda has been working for the Perlmans for  _years_. Mr. Perlman hired her not too long after he got married to his wife - and, soon after that, Elio came into the picture. She met Elio as a baby and witnessed him growing up from childhood to adolescence. She changed his diapers and dipped his pacifier into honey and strawberry sauce a millionth times when he wouldn't stop crying. Having no children of her own, the woman considers Elio like a son.

Elio was on his third peach when Annella walked trough the large doors. She smiled when seeing her son, kissing him before sliding her bag off her shoulder. ''Add one cover for tonight, Mafalda. I invited Marzia to dinner.''

.

**19:40**

Stomach filled with Mafalda's delicious pastas - and peach tart -, Marzia and Elio retired to the latter's bedroom. 

The sun had got down a little but, it was still warm outside. It was the perfect time to open a book and read outside - the sun isn't too bright and it's not suffocating hot at this time - but, Elio had a guest. 

''Chiara hasn't stopped asking about Oliver since they kissed at the party,'' Marzia complained, her back propped against the pillows on Elio's bed. 

''Oliver. Oliver, Oliver...''

The brunette girl raised a questioning eyebrow. ''Has Oliver talked about her?'' 

Why would Marzia think Oliver shared his state of mind or had heart to heart conversations with him? Is it because they live under the same roof? Or share a bedroom? Oliver is a very private man, Elio doubt he'd ever talk about his personal feelings to him. 

''We don't have this type of conversation, Oliver and I.'' 

Marzia frowned, looking a little surprised. ''What do you talk about then? Books? History?'' 

Elio wanted to roll his eyes at her shallow assumptions. It's not because Elio loves his books and Oliver studies history that it was the only possible conversation subject for them. 

Elio huffed, laying flat on his back on the opposite side of the bed. He stayed silent, deciding to ignore his friend's question.

''Talking about Oliver, where is he? I thought he'd be having dinner with us.'' 

Was Oliver the reason why she came over for dinner? Because she hoped to see him at the villa? She complained about Chiara but, she's doing the same thing with Elio. 

Oliver, Oliver,  _Oliver_. Always Oliver. 

It's getting annoying.

''I don't know. He comes and goes whenever he wants.'' 

Since Elio arrived from Scotland, Oliver has had  _two_  meals with them, both of them being breakfast. Does he not dine with the Perlman's? The previous students all ate dinner with them, why was Oliver always absent? 

.

** Sunday, July 1st 2018 **

**10:03**

On hot days in Italy, nothing felt better than swimming. The cold water of the pool sliding and covering your warm skin, providing an immediate refreshment. The Perlman's pool was on the smaller side but, Elio still loved to spend  _hours_  in it. On most afternoons, he's sit outside and read as he tanned or worked on his music, going for a swim when his white skin was starting to feel tingly and hot. From time to time, his mother or Mafalda would bring him fresh fruits from their garden. 

It was what Elio called a perfect day.

This year, his hours by the pool had to be graced by Oliver's presence. With his seven inches taller, the American took all the space every time he went for a swim...and he's a  _splasher_. Joy. 

Oliver had just left to help Mr. Perlman with some documents inside the villa, leaving the pool all to Elio. The adolescent smiled, book in hands and sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His back was resting against the edge of the pool, the water covering his body to mid stomach. His mother told him numerous times to  _not_  read when in the pool - he could easily drop the book -but, Elio is a stubborn boy and didn't listen. 

He was in the middle of a page of his favorite Tolstoy novel when his phone buzzed on the grass. Elio set his book aside and reached for the device.

**_______________**

**Marzia**

**10:03**

Are you coming with us tonight? There's a dance 

night at the restaurant. 

Chiara said to bring Oliver!

**_______________**

_Oliver_. Of course.

Elio rolled his eyes and put his phone on the towel, screen facing down, ignoring Marzia's text message.

.

**21:57**

''What are you doing here? I thought you'd be going out with your friends. It's Sunday.''

Elio lifted his eyes from his book to meet his father, glass of red wine in his hand and a book in the other. 

In the Perlman family,  _everyone_  is a book-worm. They each have their favorite genre but, reading is a family thing. Even Elio's mother joined the party, being a book translator and collector. Among her collection, she owns about fifteen original works worth thousands of dollars.

Elio shrugged. ''Didn't feel like going out tonight. My stomach hurts a little,'' he lied, rubbing his tummy. ''Must've ate too many cherries in the garden or something.'' 

''Oliver went.'' 

At the mention of Oliver, Elio's face showed annoyance. 

Mr. Perlman walked over to the couch where his son was laying down and Elio folded his legs to make room for his father.  ''Things didn't get better with Oliver,'' he figured. 

Will things _ever_  get better with Oliver? 

When they went in town to get Oliver's laptop fixed, they had a moment where Elio thought he had it. Oliver seemed interested by his trip in Scotland. He said he wanted to visit some day. Maybe that's it. Maybe he should try talking about Scotland again? He can't do that all summer though. He'll have to find another solution.

''I tried dad. I did. But...Oliver-''  Elio sighed, a bit frustrated. ''He doesn't want to spend time with me.''

''Oliver said so?''

''He didn't have to,'' Elio explained. ''He's  _never_ here. He leaves early and come back when I'm asleep. It feels like he's avoiding me. I know there's a difference of age between us but, I'm not a  _child_. I don't understand becuase he doesn't seem to have a problem hanging out with my friends - which are around the same age as me. I think what hurts most is that he, in a way, stole my friends from me. He's all my friends talk about. It's like they don't care about me anymore; they just want to hang out with Oliver.'' 

Although it sounded a bit like jealousy, it was not that. Elio was upset and sad. 

He had been looking forward to see his childhood friends and spend all summer with them but, he quickly realized that they didn't want to hang out with him but rather with his dad's new intern. He felt like an old toy you tossed aside the second you got a new one. 

''I don't think Oliver is doing it on purpose. Being out of the country can make you feel a bit lonely, you should know that better than anyone. While Oliver was well surrounded by the villa, he wasn't with people his age. Now that he found a group of people that weren't over their forties, he gravitates more toward them because they reminds him of home.''

Elio slowly nodded, understanding what his dad meant. When he'd start a new school year in a foreign country, finding a group of friends to surround yourself with do help feeling less homesick. 

''Why them and not me?''

''Maybe he feels intimidated by you?'' 

Elio shook his head, dubious. His dad is being ridiculous right now. Why would Oliver be intimidated by him? 

''Don't put yourself down,'' Mr. Perlman warned. ''You are a very intelligent boy for your age, Elio. I don't now a lot of boys - or girls - your age who have a knowledge as large as yours. You have everything to impress.''

''Oliver is  _twenty-four_. I'm afraid a sixteen years old adolescent won't impress him.'' 

Mr. Perlman chuckled. ''Try. You could be surprised. Why don't you hop on your bikes tomorrow and explore town with him? Show him everything you know about Crema. Oliver knows about what's written but, you and I know there is always more to a story.'' 

For a small village, Crema had a lot to say. Historically and not. Maybe Elio could take him to the Battle of Piavé statue? Or the centuries old cathedral? Oliver liked when Elio was telling him about the historical sites he visited, maybe it's the key to ignite their friendship?

''And, if it still doesn't work, next year you'll help me find a better intern.'' 

Elio raised an eyebrow, surprised. ''Really?''

Mr. Perlman chuckled. ''No.''

.

** Monday, July 2nd 2018**

**13:42**

Like every afternoons, Elio was sitting in the pool, reading a book. He was having a good time...until Oliver showed up, breaking his peaceful ambiance. 

''Can I join you?'' 

Elio turned his head around and saw the american in his red swimsuit, arms above his head as he slipped his tee shirt off. As he watched him undress, Elio understood why girls fawned over Oliver. His skin was tanned and he had defined pecs and abs. He also had a handful more body hair than Elio but, the adolescent couldn't do anything about that. Body hair wasn't something you can control. Girls also loved when guys have foreign accent, something Elio didn't understand why. It's just the way they talk.

Before Elio could answer him, Oliver hopped in the pool, stalling his body until his head was the only part above water. 

Annoyed with his unwanted company, Elio got out of the pool and laid down on a towel to work on his tan, face down. 

In the pool, Oliver watched him, a frown between his eyebrows. ''You're going to burn,'' he pointed.

Without looking at him, Elio hummed. ''What?''

''Your skin. You're going to burn,'' Oliver repeated. There was a sound of water moving and suddenly, something was thrown at him on the grass. ''You should put sunscreen on.'' 

Elio turned his head and saw the bottle of sunscreen Oliver must've threw at him. ''I don't need it.'' 

''Oh, so you want to burn  _and_  have skin cancer?'' Oliver paused, pushing himself out of the water. ''Did you know 3000 people dies of skin cancer in america every year? It could be you, one day, if you keep exposing yourself to the sun without FPS protection.''

Elio snorted. ''Why do you care if I get a skin cancer of not? I'll be the one stuck with it, not you.'' 

Oliver grabbed the bottle next to Elio and kneeled down, squirting a bit of sunscreen in his hands and rubbing it on the brunet's skin. Elio froze at the feeling of Oliver's hands on him. ''I-I can do it myself,'' Elio debated, trying to stand up and pushing Oliver's hands away but, Oliver was stronger than him and managed to hold him down easily. 

  '' _Let me_.''  

Reluctantly, Elio stopped fighting and let Oliver run sun protection all over his back and shoulder. His hands were rough and strong but his touch was gentle over his pale skin. His touch felt good. So good Elio wanted to close his eyes and relax under the older man's touch. As he was massaging the product into his skin, Oliver started undoing the tensed knots between his shoulder and-  _ugh._

Then, Oliver removed his hands, tapping lightly Elio's shoulder to say he was all done, reminding the adolescent that this was not a massage but a platonic skin care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on this chapter? Marzia asking about Oliver? Elio feeling replaced? Where do you think Oliver spends his days?Oliver rubbing sunscreen on Elio?
> 
> Let me know what you think and don't forget to leave kudos and comments, xx


	4. THREE | Fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize how long it had been since I updated this story. PLease forgive me for the long wait.

**Wednesday, July 4th 2018**

**17:50**

To bring a bit of American celebration to Italy, the Perlmans decided to host a 4th of July dinner in honor of Oliver. Although Elio's dad is half American, they have never celebrated Independence Day. They're not big on holidays. Other than Hanukkah. They've started celebrating Christmas two years ago, despite being Jewish. Originally a Christian celebration, Christmas turned into a more commercial holiday rather than religious.

Around six o'clock, Mafalda pulled the bell, warning everyone that dinner was ready. Elio had been warned to dress up a little for the occasion so he wore a black shirt with red hearts all over. A lot would call it a feminine piece but Elio liked it. He needs to get back in track with fashion and stop wearing those ugly 'dad' polos.

As he descended the stairs, he almost bumped into Oliver who was arriving from Mr. Perlman's office. He apologized but Oliver shook it off with a chuckle, letting Elio pass in front of him. 

Outside, the whole dinning area had been decorated with red, blue and white ribbons and balloons, going perfectly with all the American themed food who was displayed on the table. Mafalda reluctantly put aside her traditional Italian receipts for the night and cooked an array of American classics...with an Italian twist. 

Annella was helping Mafalda set all the food on the table, a glass of red wine in her left hand when the two boys stepped outside, a confused frown forming on Oliver's face. 

''What do you think? How's our attempt at Fourth of July?'' Mr. Perlman asked, coming from behind Oliver. ''I know it can't replace America but, we tried.'' 

''You did all of for me?'' Oliver asked, pointing to his chest. ''You didn't have to do that for me, Pro., this is too much-'' 

Annella shook her head, interrupting Oliver with a hand on his forearm. ''It's a pleasure, Oliver. We want you to feel at home. Just, sit down.''

''Wow, this is- I have no words.'' 

''Mom even forced us to wear red for the occasion,'' Elio added before taking a seat between Oliver and his mom. 

Oliver smiled, only now noticing Annella's red dress and Mr. Perlman's red polo. Even Mafalda had joined to the part with her red apron. ''Well, now I feel a bit like a black sheep with my green shirt.'' 

.

**22:37**

Once the sun was completely down, Mr. Perlman, with Oliver's help, pulled out the fireworks from their box, placing them carefully on the grass. They didn't have a lot - try finding fireworks in Cream, it's almost a mission impossible - but, it was enough for a small show. 

Marzia and Chiara joined to the festivities around nine o'clock, passing by to invite Elio and Oliver to a party at Matteo's but decided to stay and skip the party when Annella told the girls they had fireworks. 

''I haven't seen fireworks since I was seven at  _Disneyland_.''

Elio snickered, shaking his head as he took a sip of his red sangria - an American classic. ''Still can't believe you went to Disneyland. Everyone know  _Disney World_  is the real deal.'' 

Marzia elbowed him. ''Shut up!'' 

Elio laughed and she stole his glass, drinking the remaining of his drink. ''Hey! I was planning to finish that.''

''You should've came at the restaurent this weekend. I was disappointed when Oliver showed up alone,'' the brunette said as she swirled around the last drops of sangria. ''Mom and dad were at a friend's wedding anniversary so Chiara brought Oliver home and I heard them fuck until two.'' 

Marzia scrunched her face in disgust.

''With the headboard and all,'' Elio asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

She nodded and he fell backward in the grass, laughing - probably because of how much alcohol he had tonight. 

''Americans have no shame,'' Marzia declared as she watched her sister trying to get Oliver's attention about ten meters from them. She even put a shorter skirt for the occasion but Oliver didn't seem to pay attention to her, busy setting up the fireworks.

They got up to get a refill for Elio and a glass for Marzia. If she has to watch her sister being all over Oliver for another night, she needed a little alcohol. 

''Go easy on the sangria, darling,'' Annella warned as she watched her son pour a generous amount into his glass. He already had three and with the amount of vodka,  brandy, triple sec and red wine she saw Oliver pour, she was surprised he was still standing. 

Elio lifted his glass in the air and smiled brightly at his mom. ''Oui, maman.''

Annella shook her head shooed him from the table, deciding it was enough for tonight. He's going to accompany his dad to Paolo's house tomorrow to look at some antique pieces for their collection a the villa and she doubt he'd want to deal with a hungover Elio during the two hours car ride. 

As Elio and Marzia walked on the grass, the fireworks went off and the boy jumped, spilling a bit of his drink on his pretty shirt, taken by surprised by the loud noise. He knew it would be loud but didn't expect to be  _this_  loud. 

Marzia laughed at his friend who was looking down at the mess he just made, lips pursed into a pout. ''I can't believe you got scared of the fireworks!'' 

''I was just...not expecting that sound, okay?'' he bargained, trying to justify himself but the french girl rolled her eyes. 

They sat by the pool, dipping their feet in the water as they watched the rest of the fireworks explode in the sky. It was getting chilly and Elio knew they would have to start cleaning up the yard soon but he ignored that and watched the bring colors illuminating the dark sky. 

''So,'' the brunette started, breaking the silence. ''Were you seeing someone in Scotland?'' She bit her lip, nervous to hear Elio's answer. The question had been on the tip of her tongue for a moment but never got the courage to ask. Until now. 

Elio wanted to laugh.  _Was he seeing anyone?_

He shook his head. ''No.'' 

Marzia nodded, hesitating again. ''Me either.'' 

''Good... _good_.''  

.

**Thursday, July 5th 2018**

**10:05**

Elio sat in the backseat of his dad's car, black sunnies on the bridge of his nose. His dad told him to be ready for ten however, he wasn't even there when Elio stepped outside. He called for him but Mafalda told him he was in his office, answering some emails. 

Both hot and tired to wait, Elio decided to pull out his phone and play a game to kill time only to realize he doesn't have games on his phone...and there's no wi-fi at the villa. Awesome. That's something he never understood. His parents are against wi-fi at their vacancy house but, his dad has a connection in his office. It's for work purpose, but still. It's unfair.

A sigh left his lips as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. ''Finally,'' he whispered to himself when he saw his dad coming out of the house...with Oliver behind.  _He must be going on his bike_ , Elio told himself. 

''Oliver's coming with us,'' Mr. Perlman announced as he sat in the driver seat, map in his right hand although he knows the way to Paolo's house by heart. 

Unhappy about the sudden change, Elio leaned forward and whispered to his dad, ''I thought it would be the two of us...''

''Elio,'' his dad warned, narrowing his eyes trough the mirror. 

The american opened the passenger door and Elio opened his mouth to complain for the second time in ten seconds. ''What?! I  _never_ get to sit up front,'' he protested, making their guest laugh. 

''Oliver's tall. He'd cramped in the back.'' 

Elio frowned. ''I'm tall too. See, I'm cramped back there.'' He moved his legs, trying to show his dad how little space he had for his legs but he ignored him and started the car. 

''I'm six inches taller,'' Oliver precised, turning around in his seat to look at Elio. ''Try again.'' 

.

**11:45**

Just like the Perlman's villa, Paolo's villa was impressive.  A beautiful beige two story house with a terracotta roof situated right by the lake Garda. Light grey stones and rocks tiled the stairs leading to the front door, everything surrounded by plants and flowers. 

Ever since he was a kid, Elio's been following his father to Paolo's house. He'd water his garden and get a bowl of raspberry Italian gelato in reward. Being a messy eater, Elio would always end up with gelato on his small nose and cheeks which made the two men laugh before telling him to go clean up in the lake. 

After parking the car, the three men headed straight to Paolo's backyard where the historian was waiting patiently for them. 

''Look who's here,'' the gray haired manexclaimed, standing from his patio chair to greet everyone. He exchanged an accolade with Mr. Perlman before moving to the younger one, smiling when he saw the teenager. ''Elio,'' Paolo said, pulling him into a hug. 

''He's grown a bit, uh?'' Mr. Perlman pointed as Elio hugged the elder man back. Paolo nodded at Elio's tall frame. ''And, this is Oliver,'' he added, nodding at the American. 

Oliver stepped forward and shook Paolo's hand politely. ''Oh, so you are the brilliant and promising American student Sammy told me about?''

The blond chuckled, flashing a smile. ''Can't say anything about being bright and promising but, I am American.''

''Always so humble, Oliver,'' Mr. Perlman pointed, patting the taller man on she shoulder. 

''You all arrived just in time for lunch,'' Paolo informed. ''Theresa made some bruschetta and a delicious soup. It's a delight!'' 

.

**14:01**

Around two o'clock, Mr. Perlman and Paolo decided to go inside for a drink while the boys went on a little swim before they head back. A smirk had spread on Elio's lips. For once, the American wasn't invited to join his father.

Neither had their swim trunks but boxers would work just as fine.  

Elio stripped from his shoes, tee shirt and shorts, prying his eyes off Oliver's body flexing as he copied his actions, leaving all of their belongings on the sand. 

He kept his sunnies on the bridge of his nose and walked backward into the water, raising his arms. ''Welcome to my crib,'' he said, forcing an American accent, referencing MTV's infamous TV show.

Following Elio in the water, Oliver winced, shaking his head. ''Please never do that again.'' The older man dove deeper into the water until his whole body was submerged, cold water cooling his hot body. 

The adolescent shrugged his shoulders as Oliver resurfaced, following him further into the lake. ''Why not? I thought it was very fitting for the occasion,'' Elio defended. 

''Growing up in Italy doesn't make everything in Italy is 'yours' by default,'' Oliver pointed.

''That's  _not_  what I meant. My father and Paolo have been friends since I can remember. He would take me with him when I was a kid. At first, I hated it. I thought it was boring and until I got lost on my way to the bathroom and found Paolo's historic library where he kept all of his artifacts and books. Since that day, I thought Paolo's house was fascinating.'' He paused, floating on his back for a moment as he looked at the sun through the black lens of his sunnies. 

Oliver watched, blue eyes casted on the adolescent's flat and pasty stomach. Water glistened on his skin, catching the sun. The American blinked, forcing his gaze away.

''I've always loved to learn, even as a kid. Everytime I we would come here, I'd run inside to the library and pick a book and devour it. As mucha s he loved to see me reading and learning about history, my father had to bribe me to get me to close the book and play outside,'' Elio continued. ''Did you know that lake Garda is the largest lake of Italy?''

''I did not.'' 

''It was formed during the last Ice Age about 1.5 million years ago. A piedmont glacier, which flowed down Brenta Dolomites, cut the path for the lake, resulting in Lake Garda’s axe-like shape. Later, the glacier melted and left the freshwater lake we are swimming in.''

''Does it ever stop or are you always word vomiting historical knowledge?'' 

Elio furrowed his eyebrows, unsure if it was an insult or not. Before he could think further, a wave caught him from behind, causing Elio to fall and disappear underwater. The water stilled and the adolescent emerged from the surface, coughing out salt water. Disgusting. His curly hair were tamed to his forehead, giving him a boy-ish look. 

''You okay?'' Oliver asked slightly amused.

Elio glared at him, pushing the wet strands of hair off his face. Oliver stepped closer and extended his hand in Elio's direction, offering his help. Elio took the blond's inviting hand, noticing how  _bigger_  Oliver's hand was in his, how  _stronger_ Oliver was. 

For a second, Elio's mind wandered, imaginating how easily those hands could pin him against a wall as lips kissed up his neck or the bruises they would leave on his hips-

Realizing those thought were starting to make his boxers a little tight, Elio let go of the older man's hand, cutting all physical contact before he was handed a free ticket to embarassement-land. 

.

**Friday, July 6th 2018**

**20:27**

With the heavy rain pouring outside the villa, Elio had no choice but to stay in on Friday night - order of his parents. Or, that's what he told his friends. 

The truth was, last night, when Elio went out with his friends, he and Marzia found themselves making out actively behind the bushes and...Elio couldn't get it up. He tried. He really did try but his mind was crowded with the thoughts of Oliver's hands and how much smaller Marzia's were and the pleasure wasn't there. He blamed it on the alcohol he drank, making her swoon with a William Shakespeare reference that claimed alcohol provokes the desire but takes away the performance. 

Needless to say, he got lucky Marzia knew nothing about erectile dysfunctions and believed him.

When he got the invitation to come to the river tonight, Elio was hesitant to go. While partying with his friends sounded fun, he figured Marzia had probably told Chiara about his problem and he couldn't face her. It was too embarrassing. 

If only she knew the real reason behind his inability to get an erection...

A clash of thunder resonated through the villa just as Annella put the lock on the double doors leading to the backyard, knowing the strong wind will blow them open if she didn't put the lock. They usually keep them wide open, letting fresh air fill the villa but the Perlmans always closed them during storms, not fancying having rain inside. 

''This storm is wild tonight,'' she pointed, glancing out the window. ''Hopefully it won't damage our garden too much.'' Annella crossed the room and grabbed her german copy of Marguerite of Navarre's  _Heptaméron_ , joining the boys on the love seat. ''Scoot over, darling,'' she demanded as she sat down next to her husband.

Elio listened to his mother's request, laying down until his back was on his father's lap. A soft smile on her lips, Annella ran a hand trough Elio's curly hair as soft music played from the record player. 

To some, Elio's relationship with his parents could come across too personal. What seventeen years old willingly lay their head on their parents's lap while the other read to them? 

She opened the book where she left off, clearing her throat before reading the first line. "...A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess. She too is in love with him though she seems not to be entirely aware of it. Despite the friendship that blossoms between them, or perhaps because of that very friendship, the young knight finds himself so humbled and speechless that he is totally unable to bring up the subject of his love. One day he asks the princess point-blank: 'Is it better to speak or die'.''

That last quote made Elio look up to his mom just as the power went out, plunging the villa into the dark. Annella closed the book, deposing the copy on the table in front of the loveseat. 

_Is it better to speak or die._

As he repeated it over and over, Elio started to relate to Marguerite of Navarre's infamous quote in multiple ways. 

He was scared of people’s reactions and what will happen after he opened to people about struggles with his bi-sexuality and growning, undenyable feelings for Oliver. Elio knew his parents were accepting and very open - they'll probably pull him in a hug and say the'll love him unconditionally - but coming out was always scary. His fear of coming out wasn't only about his parents's reaction. He couldn't help but think: what _Mafalda_  would think? What his  _friends_  would think? What  _Marzia_  would think? What  _Oliver_  would think?

 _Oliver_.

God. Where to start with this one.

''I'll never have the courage to ask a question like that,'' Elio declared, right hand resting on his stomach, green eyes staring blankly at the wall behind the couch as his mother stroked his hair. 

Mr. Perlman huffed. ''I doubt that,'' the man contradicted. 

The parents shared a look. They could feel something was going on in their son's head. Elio looked distraught and pensive. As much as they hated seeing their son like this, they knew to respect his personal space. Although forcing him to confide to them would be wrong, there was nothing wrong with a reminder that the door was open.

''Hey. Ellie Bellie,'' started Mr. Perlman, grabbing his son's hand for a moment. ''You know that you can talk to us, right?'' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos and comments, xx


End file.
